What You'll Never Know
by TheEliteLabRatsLover
Summary: Chase doesn't necessarily cut for the pleasure of the pain. No, instead, he cuts for the blood. For the blood to remind him that he's still human even though he can't feel any other emotions than hurt and anger.


**So, I wanted to post this because this is a _very_ serious topic and I want to raise awareness. **

**Now this does contain triggers, so _please_ , _please_ , _please_ , don't read this if it may be bother you. Just be warned that it's a little dark. Not too serious, but as you read from the summary, it deals with some pretty heavy stuff. So, read at your own risk. This is a very deep subject that is very close to my heart, and if you're dealing with something like this; please, just PM me and don't do something you'll regret. **

**Because even if it feels like no one out loves you, they do. God does, and I do, too. So, please, just remember; you're not alone.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.**

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Chase sighs as he moves down the hallway from the kitchen to the lab. It's pitch dark in the house right now, since it's only five in the morning.

He didn't bother to turn on the light.

He knew what he wanted.

He knew where it was exactly.

He glances down at the shiny metal object in his hand, and can feel his heart flutter in anticipation. He moves towards the bathroom and walks in, closing the door behind him quietly. He doesn't need to turn on the light, as the moonlight filters through the window and is enough to make the knife glint in it's pure richness that the moon offers.

It's enough for him to see.

It's all he really needs.

He sets the knife down and rolls up his sleeves. He then moves the sharp object closer, with calm and steady hands, to his wrist. He feels the ice cold metal touch his skin and his heart flutters even more. Right before he brings it down, however, he pauses.

Does he really want to do this?

He knows that once you start, you can't stop.

 _But you'll finally be able to feel again. Finally feel something other than anger, and hurt from all their hateful remarks. Think about it._ His conscience reminds him. It may be silent around him, but inside a battle was taking place. And Chase's sensible side was losing rapidly.

He nods silently, and finally brings the knife across his wrist in one quick, swift motion.

A painful sting causes him to wince, but he smiles as he sees the blood running down his hand in torrents. He liked to see the blood. He liked it, because it reminded him he was human. And the pain reminds him that he can feel something other than anger and hurt from their words.

So he brought it across again. And again. And again and again for every hateful remark running thorough his brain.

Freak.

Nerd.

Short.

Lady Golfer.

Doll like body.

Jerk.

Traitor.

Loser.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

Ch-ustle.

He didn't even realize the tears cascading down his cheeks and mixing in with the scarlet blood, creating a waterfall of heartbreak and agony, mixed in with peace and tranquility. He looks down at the knife and smiles bitterly. Looks like all those knife lessons from Mr. Davenport finally paid off.

 _If only he could see you now_ , his conscience echoes in his brain.

But at least Chase can finally feel again. He brings the knife down again, without even realizing it. His hand is moving without his brain's permission. He thinks about how hard it is being a leader.

Slit.

He thinks about Bionic Brother Toss.

Slit.

He thinks about how no one even appreciates all of his hard work.

Slit.

He thinks about how much everyone must hate him.

Slit.

He thinks about the avalanche.

Slit.

He thinks about Adam claiming he's the most worthless person to have ever of been born.

Slit.

He thinks about just how much he hates himself.

Slit. Slit. Slit.

By the time he's done, the knife is bathed in a crimson red liquid, dripping off into the already blood stained sink. He turns on the sink with almost robotic movements, and rinses off the knife and sink.

He then begins to rinse off his arms, and bites back a gasp at the fresh wave of pain. He inhales cold air from the sting and smiles almost mirthfully at the pain. It seems like he almost just can't get enough of it.

He shuts the water off and begins bandaging his arms for the morning. He grabs his flannel shirt once he's done, and hides the knife in a strategic location in the bathroom. He walks out and moves to the couch. He won't be able to sleep any more, so he turns on the TV.

Does he regret what he did?

His sensible side screams yes, but his human side, the side that everyone seems to forget about, answers with a resounding no. He's glad he did what he did. And he knows no one will ever find out. No one cares enough to even begin to think about what's wrong with him. And he knows that if they did find out, nobody would even care.

And he's glad.

Really.

At least that's what he tells himself, and he's really trying to believe it.

He knows they hate them, but the problem is, he doesn't hate them; even though he believes he should. He can't hate them, no matter what. He's glad they can live life without just barely catching a glimpse of themselves in the mirror and immediately feeling self hatred.

He's glad they don't have to worry about who's going to bully them when they get to school, or even when they arrive home.

Honest. But they'll never know what he goes through. They'll never understand. And he's fine with that. They don't ever even have to know.

It's best that way.

Sometimes he almost wishes they would find out, and tell him how stupid it is to cut, and that they love him and don't ever want to hurt him, but he knows that's never going to happen.

They don't care.

He smiles bitterly as distant lights from the television flash before his eyes. He never knew that his life would turn out like this.

Never in a million years would he have dreamed up something so messed up. He never knew his life would turn out so messed up, and miserable. But he soon found out how horribly wrong he had been. They'll never know what they did to him. How much pain they caused him.

They'll never know that he now cuts, and that they are the reason. The reason that he has to cut to feel something, _anything_ again. Because Chase once thought he wasn't human, but he was wrong. He was very, very wrong.

Because if he wasn't human, he wouldn't feel.

And he couldn't have been broken.

And maybe cutting wasn't the best way to cope with it, but it was his way. He smiles sadly as the foreign sounds of the TV echo throughout the empty room.

They broke him.

But they'll never know.

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 **Was that an okay ending? Because I feel like it sucked. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts with a review! :)**


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